Turbulence
by BuzzCat
Summary: When Phil Coulson got onto an airplane for the fourth time that week, he didn't expect to make a friend. When Melinda got on her first plane in months, she didn't expect to make a friend either.


Phil pushed his suitcase into the overhead compartment. Being in charge certainly had its perks, and flying everywhere all the time for meetings was often one of them. In the past six months since his promotion, he'd been on a plane at least two days of the weeks. He was starting to know some of the flight attendants by first name. True, sometimes it got a little exhausting always travelling, but he loved being somewhere new all the time. He was making I-come-in-peace visits to all of the franchisees around the country and sometimes the world, and each place had its own quirks and special culture twists. Each time he landed, he always made sure to find time to do a little touristing. His job was hard, but he was doing alright. He settled into his seat and looked out the window at the dark city, street lights burning in large clusters. He was leaving Houston and he had to say, he didn't know that he regretted leaving. Too hot, too dry, and too much barbecue. He'd irrevocably damaged at least two ties on this trip. London would be a nice change.

A loud _thunk!_ jostled him out of his thoughts and Phil turned to see that his seatmate had arrived. A petite woman who lifted her obviously heavy suitcase into the overhead compartment and she settled into the seat beside him. She stared ahead and as soon as she sat down her fingers started tapping a rhythm into her thigh. Not long after, the plane started taxiing out to the runway and tapping got faster. He smiled at her,

"Nervous flier?"

"Hardly." said the woman.

"So what's with the tapping?"

"I used to be a pilot."

"Don't trust our current pilot?"

"Not used to being in the back." she said. Phil nodded.

"It's not so bad back here. Peanuts and pretzels—"

"Which they give you so that fliers get thirsty and buy drinks."

"—television—"

"Which is exorbitantly priced if you want to look at something other than animated clouds."

"—blankets on long flights—"

"Look, I appreciate the niceness, but seriously. Stop." said the woman, finally turning to look at him. Phil nodded,

"Okay." He was quiet through take-off until he asked,

"I'm Phil. So what's in London?"

"Melinda. Rain."

"No, what are you going for?" he asked with a smile. Melinda's fingers were still drumming a rhythm into her thigh as she said,

"Job interview."

"New airline?"

"Flight instructor." she said.

"So why don't you fly yourself over if it's so stressful to ride instead of fly yourself?" asked Phil and the moment the words left his mouth, he knew it was the exact wrong question to ask. Melinda's fingers stopped and she said in a decidedly frosty tone,

"I'm going to sleep." She turned off her light and put in earbuds, closing her eyes. Phil fidgeted uncomfortably but let it go. He hadn't meant anything about it, just trying to make small talk. He sighed and got comfortable himself. It was a long flight and sleeping through it sounded like the best answer.

Six hours later, Phil slowly blinked awake. At first he wasn't sure what had woken him, but then he realized what it was: Melinda's hand had fallen into his lap, very close to a very interested member. Phil felt himself flush. Her head was resting against his shoulder and his own head had fallen to lie on top of hers at some point in his nap and now he was awake and very much concerned that she would be too. Even worse (or better, considering how cold the plane was), one of the flight attendants had thrown a blanket over the pair of them in the night and there was no other word for it; they were snuggling. Phil sat as still as possible. He was terrified that if he shifted one inch, Melinda would wake up and it was going to awkward for all involved. Just then, the overhead speakers dinged and one of the flight attendants came on,

"Attention ladies and gentlemen, it appears that we're going to be experiencing some turbulence shortly. As you can see, the pilot has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. Please buckle up and store your seat trays in the upright and locked position. Nothing to worry about, just protocol. Thank you." Phil realized that he was unbuckled, as was Melinda, as best he could recall. Miraculously, she had slept through the announcement. Carefully, oh so careful to not jostle Melinda at all, Coulson reached down and fastened his seatbelt. Melinda shifted slightly and her hand slipped further up his leg, mere inches from things going from embarrassing to downright scandalous. Phil gulped. He couldn't leave Melinda unbuckled, in case something happened. He desperately hoped she was an exceptionally heavy sleeper and almost held his breath as he reached around her waist with one hand, the other searching for the other side of the buckle. Just as he was about to join the two, securing Melinda, the plane shook with the first bit of promised turbulence. Melinda jumped in his arms, her hand coming flying back to her and almost smacking his eye. He buckled her belt and immediately got as far away from her as he could while still remaining in his seat. He held his hands up,

"I was just trying to buckle you in. Turbulence." he said defensively. Melinda glared at him and was about growl something out when the plane shook again. She immediately froze in her seat, hands grabbing the armrests in a white-knuckled grip. The plane shook on and off for the next half hour, Melinda's grip never loosening. Phil slowly moved to cover her hand with one of his, making sure that she saw what he was doing in case she wanted to pull her hand back. When she didn't move, Phil covered her hand with his and he gently rubbed it,

"It's okay. We'll be fine." Melinda's head whipped around to glare at him as she hissed,

"I know that very well, Phil. It's just that this idiot of a pilot flew us into this in the first place." But Phil could see it beneath her anger: Melinda was frightened. He said nothing, just kept rubbing her hand with his. As the turbulence continued, Melinda's terror grew and grew. Phil twisted in his seat until he could pull her into an awkward hug. Melinda went willingly, almost burrowing into his suit as he wrapped his arms around her and she held him tightly. One hand came up to massage her scalp as he whispered,

"It's alright. We're going to be just fine. You're safe." It didn't matter at the particular moment that he couldn't technically control any of those promises he made, but Melinda never gave a sign that she wanted him to be quiet, so he whispered until the turbulence passed almost ten minutes later. When the flight attendant got on the speaker again, declaring that the rest of the flight should be without complications, Melinda and Phil slowly untangled themselves from each other. The blanket had fallen to the floor and Phil picked it up, offering it to Melinda,

"Are you cold?" he asked. She shook her head. Phil nodded and folded it neatly before shoving it between his armrest and the wall.

"Thank you." said Melinda quietly. Phil nodded,

"You're welcome." They were silent after that until they reached the runway almost two hours later. They were taxiing in when,

"I crashed." said Melinda quietly. Phil looked at her and she clarified, "You wanted to know why I didn't fly myself. Last time, I crashed the plane." she said. Phil was quiet, then said,

"Oh." Somehow, his response made Melinda smile. They gathered their carry-ons and ended up next to each other at the checked bag carousel. Their bags came out together and Phil turned to her, smiling,

"Well, I'm off. Listen, if you ever need anything, here's my card." He handed her a business card and Melinda handed him hers. The pair smiled at each other, then left, each going their separate ways. That night, Phil had a text from Melinda: _Dinner?_

He smiled and sent back one word: _Yes_


End file.
